


This Thing Called Love

by Makkoska



Series: Small Things [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Epilogue, Happy Ending AU, M/M, What-If, canon events turning out differently, same sex grandparents, same sex parents, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makkoska/pseuds/Makkoska
Summary: Hashirama retires and Tobirama becomes the Second Hokage.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: Small Things [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/49732
Comments: 18
Kudos: 83





	This Thing Called Love

**Author's Note:**

> Look folks, this is a six-years late epilogue kind of thingy to Small Things. I'm back on the Naruto train, and if it's Naruto, it's HashiMada, right? This ended up being extremely soft with everyone being quite content.   
> This won't make much sense without reading the Small Things series, but if you would still give it a go - this is a happy ending everyone lives peacefully in Konoha AU. Enjoy.

“I’m thinking about stepping down.”

“Stepping down from where?” Tobirama asked, not looking up from his scroll. 

“From my position,” Hashirama said with a certain level of exasperation. “As the Hokage.” This made the younger Senju focus on him finally.

“You are joking, right? Why would you do that?”

“I just turned fifty, brother. I’ve been doing this for half my life. I’m honestly a bit tired with all the… paperwork and politics and being the go-to person for everything. I could do with a bit of a … you know. Retirement.”

He appeared dead serious. To humour him, Tobirama pretended to give this concept a bit of a thought.

“No, I don’t think that would work. Shinobi just don’t retire.”

“That’s because we didn’t use to live long enough to do it. Anyway, I’m not retiring as a shinobi, just as the leader of this village. I’ll still fight if needed. I can go on missions. I’d _love_ to go on a mission, actually.”

“No... No. Listen, Hashirama. Who would lead this village if not you?” He narrowed his eyes as a suspicion formed in mind. “You are not thinking of giving your hat over to Madara, are you? Is he behind this insanity? Does he want to move you away, so he can…?”

“Madara is not interested in becoming the Hokage,” Hashirama snapped. “I think his exact words were that he’d sooner shave himself bald and wear a tutu.”

Tobirama spent a moment to appreciate this mental image, then shook himself back to the present.

“What an earth would you even do? Go on missions - with whom? Poor chunins would pee their ankles if they were assigned into a team with you. It’s bad enough with Madara.”

“I could go with Madara,” Hashirama suggested hopefully.

“To do what? Find the cat of the Daimyo? Escort a merchant through the Land of Grass? I wouldn’t assign the two strongest ninja into one team… But what am I even saying?” 

Hashirama smiled at him, and Tobirama had the uncanny feeling he just lost his upper hand in their argument. 

“I’m sure we would have something more serious to do. But listen, brother. I want to spend some time with my family.”

“Your children have already moved out,” Tobirama pointed out.

“Tell me about it! Tsunade is likely to pass her chunin exam this year and Nawaki has just started the Academy. I want to spend more time with them until they still think I’m cool and not just the embarrassing grandpa. And with Madara! I’d _love to_ do some travelling around with Madara. Go to the Land of Hot Waters with him, or you know, just visit the capital…” Hashirama pratted on happily about where he would go with his lover. Tobirama sighed. He was used to all these unseemly displays of affection from his older brother, but he’d have thought that by now he’d act less of a lovestruck fool. No such luck. 

“Let’s say,” he interrupted, not being able to listen any more of this mushy nonsense. “Let’s say, just to humour this idea, that you’d retire. How would we ensure the other countries don’t consider it such a drop in our power that they immediately start to plot an attack against us?”

“I’ll still be here to fight. I want to resign, not _die.”_

“Who would even be the Hokage after you? You have created this village, the title is inherently yours.”

“You’ll make an excellent second Hokage, brother,” Hashirama clasped him on the shoulder. “You are practically running this office already. You are also, unquestionably, the strongest after Madara and I. The best strategic thinker we have. Who would dare to oppose Konoha if you are leading it? I bet the other counties will take you more seriously than they took me.”

It was hard to argue with this logic. There was a part of Tobirama - a part that had always felt inferior compared to his older brother - who could easily imagine himself as the Hokage. He was more logic driven and ruthless and that was something needed for the position. Something Hashirama lacked.

Then a bigger part of him just couldn’t imagine anyone but Hashirama leading them. He was the one who formed this village, who even made the unthinkable peace with the Uchiha become a reality. Also...

“You can’t just name me like that! First, I have to accept being a candidate and second, the leaders of the clans and the daimyo have to agree to choose me. Still, I say, it would be the best if you reconsidered.”

“You know me, brother! Once I make up my mind, I don’t change it.”

***

“Madara-san, I can’t see anything!”

“You have seen Tobirama countless times before, Nawaki. He is just wearing that cloak and hat your grandfather usually does. And manages to look even more ridiculous in them.”

“But Tobirama-san is accepting the Hokage position today and I’m going to miss it all, because I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING.”

“Shh,” Tsunade tried to shush her brother, but Nawaki wasn’t someone who let himself be quieted that easily.

“I’d rather be in your position,” Madara told him. “I _wish_ I couldn’t see him. And they are going to sculpt his ugly face into the mountain side as well. We will be all forced to see it, all the time.”

Butsuma, Tobirama’s oldest, turned to glare at him over his shoulder. Madara kept a straight face - he didn’t want to sink so low to engage in a glaring contest with a fourteen years old, even if he was the son of someone he detested. Mito deployed her usual tactic and pretended she didn’t hear him. Her second oldest son, Hekima, was too excited about his father to care what Madara was saying.

Hashirama took that moment to return, apologising as he pushed his way through the crowd. Not that people didn’t make space for him or would have minded whatever he did. His youngest nephew was clinging to his neck. Shoma declared he had to pee, and his uncle, of course, volunteered to accompany him to the toilets, leaving Madara with their grandchildren and Tobirama’s family. 

“Why can Shoma piggyback grandpa? I want you to pick me up as well, Madara-san! Pleeease?” 

He gave in with a sigh. Nawaki was just seven, but he wasn’t at all intimidated by him. He had never been. Madara suspected he was losing his touch. 

“Alright there, love?” Hashirama whispered as he came to stand next to him.

“No. Why do I have to be here? I couldn’t care less about your brother’s ceremony. I certainly don’t want to see him as the Hokage.”

“That’s strange,” Hashirama winked. “Because it seems _all_ of the clan leaders unanimously voted for him.” Madara turned his face away, the effect ruined by his grandson clinging to his neck and hair. 

“I wonder how that happened,” he muttered.

Truth to be told, the animosity between him and Tobirama was more a force of habit by now than fuelled by real hatred. And he _may have_ voted in his favour when choosing the next Hokage. It wasn’t to show any kind of respect for the man, of course. Madara knew very well the pains of leading the village. Only a fool would think the position was any kind of reward. All the administration, hard decisions, ever harder talks with the villagers, assigning missions that some people would never return from… If anything, the position was a punishment.

Madara was also sure Tobirama would do a painstakingly good job at it. And it would be nice, having Hashirama around more.

“Let me make it clear - your brother has the support of the Uchiha clan as long as he doesn’t do anything unseemly. So probably for about five minutes.”

“You know how he changed his mind a lot over the years. I haven’t heard him complain about Uchihas since… I don’t know, since Aina and Kagami married?”

Aina looked over and shushed them. Well, he told Hashirama to keep quiet. She would never reprimand Madara. Such a sweet girl.

Tobirama’s speech was thankfully short. He promised the village he would look after everyone and protect the people’s safety with his life if needed.

“If only we’d get so lucky,” Madara muttered to himself.

“I know I can’t be a substitute for my brother,” Tobirama went on, “and I don’t aim to be. Hashirama will always be the First, the founder father of this village. But I’ll do my best to follow in his footsteps. Thank you for putting your trust in me.

People cheered and Hashirama, of course, was crying. He hugged his brother in front of the whole village. Tobirama muttered a token protest, but Madara knew him well enough by now to tell he was pleased.

***

Being home wasn’t as busy as working in the office, but it was no idle time either as Hashirama found. Their family has grown over the years. Their children moved out, but often came to visit. If Aina and Kagami were on missions, they looked after the grandchildren. His nephews often dropped in too. Nawaki and Tobirama’s youngest, Shoma, were the same age and were assigned to the same team after they became genins. 

Tobirama often visited as well or sent one of his “minions” as Madara called his ex-students with a question or a request for Hashirama to visit him in the office and help with his advice.

Tsunade insisted their grandfathers to train her before her chunin exam, which then she passed at the age of fourteen. She brought her teammates along, a quiet, strange boy who tended to stare at Hashirama with eerie, unblinking eyes and a loud, white hair boy who was quite fun, but things tended to break around him.

He was off on missions surprisingly often and Madara dragged him out to the training grounds at every opportunity, saying they couldn’t afford to go soft, just because they were getting older.

Lying on his back after one practically tough training session, panting as he looked up at the gathering cloud, he considered this.

“You know, this doesn’t feel much like retirement at all,” he turned his head to the side to look at Madara, who was lying next to him on the ground, equally out of breath.

“What do you mean? You renounced your title as the Hokage three years ago. You have hardly been doing anything since.”

“That’s not true,” Hashirama protested. Rain has started to fall, so Hashirama quickly raised a dome above them with his Mokuton, protecting them from the elements. He rolled to his side to look at his lover. “I’ve been busy as ever. You’ve been busy as ever. I thought we’ll have some free time to relax and just enjoy life.”

The rain started to come down hard, drumming loud on the roof of their makeshift shelter. In the dim light, Hashirama saw Madara frowning, before he sat up. 

“Are you not enjoying your life then?”

“That’s not… Madara.” He sat up as well and took the other man’s hand in his. “I’m enjoying my life a whole lot. But I thought we could go away on a holiday, maybe? Just the two of us. No distractions, no kids, no Tobirama. Just you and me.”

“Senju Hashirama. You are and forever will be the number one shinobi of this country. You can’t take a holiday as this,” he waved his hand around, not meaning the Mokuton shelter obviously, but what lay beyond, “this is your life. You don’t take breaks from your life.”

“No, think about it, Madara. We are still needed here, which is great, but we have more freedom than we ever had before. We can go and… and have fun! What do you say?”

“Knowing what your idea of fun is - I say NO.”

***

Saying no to Hashirama didn’t work, of course. In the past Madara would have been annoyed and angry, both at himself and his lover. By now, he mostly just felt amusement. He masked it on principle, not that he could fool Hashirama.

They went on a holiday. Nothing too far away of course - while there were many promising new talents growing up in the village, they were still the two strongest of Konoha. They visited the hot baths and a festival. Hashirama brought way too many presents for their grandchildren that they had to seal away in a scroll to be able to carry with them.

_Accidentally,_ the next town they visited was famous for its gambling dens. Madara insisted he didn’t play, but he still tagged along to keep an eye on Hashirama. After watching his long-time partner lose round after round, he activated his Sharingan. It helped him confirm what he already suspected - that Hashirama was taken for a sucker and the others played with marked cards. He joined the game then and kept winning until someone noticed (and was suicidal enough to point out) his Sharingan.

“I’m not sure there was a need for that genjutsu,” Hashirama told him later, but he was barely suppressing his laughter.

“They would never learn their lesson otherwise.”

Madara was pleased but force of habit dictated he tried to hide it. They won a nice sum - a rare occasion for Hashirama, who tended to mostly just lose when playing. But more than that, he had fun. Yes, there was a commotion, but it was apparent people had no idea who they were, even as they cheered them on in their uncovering of the cheating bastards. It was strangely liberating. Using the Sharingan was cheating as well, but Madara couldn’t care less.

“Gamblers around the country don’t know how lucky they are, that you don’t usually play.”

Hashirama was grinning now and Madara allowed a lazy smile to spread on his face as well. He never cared for such trivial pleasures - there had always been the rush of fight to thrill him. Later on, there was Hashirama to cause him pleasure, their family to spend his attention on. 

He thought it ridiculous that he found joy in something so mundane as beating a bunch of cheaters in a card game. 

Hashirama, a man who never shied away from any kind of pleasure, be it tiny or large, found it hilarious. Madara, past a few cups of sake and uncharacteristically relaxed, didn’t try to dampen his fun. 

He lay down on his back on his futon and smirked when Hashirama immediately followed him. He was predictable. Hashirama’s long hair fell around them like a tent as he crouched on his hands and knees above Madara. He was greying a bit at his temples. He had fine laugh lines on his face, and his jaw line wasn’t as firm as it used to be, but he was still handsome as ever. Madara didn’t think he was biased. Not much.

They kissed, slow and lazy. Hashirama’s hand slid under Madara’s yukata, caressing gently. The days of fiery passion - they weren’t exactly over, but they were rarer. Hashirama was insatiable as ever, but their lovemaking nowadays usually went on a well-trodden, comfortable path. They knew each other’s bodies and what sparked desire in them. There was no need for rushing when the other wasn’t going anywhere. Since Hashirama’s retirement they had spent most of their days together. They went on separate missions, but Konoha had a couple of peaceful years behind it, so a ninja of their calibre wasn’t so often needed. 

How long would they be attending missions at all? How long would the two of them remain the strongest still? Five years, and they would turn sixty. It seemed they might grow old together. Who would have ever thought? Madara always assumed he’d die young, like everyone in his family did. 

It was very difficult to mind getting old with Hashirama by his side. Dying of old age was still unlikely as peace between shinobi nations never lasted too long. But if the day came when Madara lost in a battle, he could die feeling content with the life he lived. 

He sighed when his partner started to lay kisses on his collarbones, his chest. He tugged on his shirt, until Hashirama lay down next to him. They took their time getting rid of their clothing, in arousing each other’s flesh with practiced caresses. Hashirama pushed his forehead against his, caressing Madara’s cock, murmuring soft little nonsenses.

Madara grabbed his arse, wrapping the fingers of his other hand around Hashirama erection, enjoying the way the Senju thrusted against his grip. It was building slowly, this steady, well-known pleasure. His orgasm was quiet, with him holding onto Hashirama, waiting for him to find his peak as well.

Hashirama went to grab a wet cloth to clean them up afterwards. Madara let him, watching him from under hooded eyes. He thought it was strange how he fell in love and kept loving this powerful, foolish man, his destined enemy. Who would have ever thought he could find peace with him? That they’d have a family to care for, a home they could stay together at.

“What are you thinking about?” Hashirama asked, lying down on the futon next to him again.

“That I could kill for that inari sushi we had for lunch, right now,” Madara said, and it wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn’t the full truth. Hashirama grinned. 

“It’s not terribly late yet, the place might be still open. Do you want to check it out?”

“Let’s go,” Madara smiled at him. “You wear me out, Hashirama, I need to refill my energy somehow.”

***

Tobirama took on being a Hokage with the same level of diligence he used to focus on making sure his brother fulfilled the role to the best of his abilities. He had to admit that Hashirama was right in one thing - there was more paperwork than anyone would have liked to take on. Luckily Uchiha Kagami, now a member of his extended family, never dared to say no if he handled over some of the more boring tasks. Even better there was Danzo, who was extremely dedicated to always getting on the better side of Tobirama, so as Hashirama had been able to rely on him to lessen his workload, Tobirama could rely on his subordinates to do the same.

He had five good years of peace when the pile of reports, application forms, requests for assistance were his biggest problem. But shinobi were not creatures of peace, so inevitably fights started to increase in frequency again, the possibility of another full-fledged war between nations looming on the horizon. 

“I hoped our peace will last longer,” Hashirama told him. They were standing in the office, a huge map of Fire County rolled out on the desk between them. Hashirama moved a group of green little buttons, symbolizing a Konoha platoon idly. Tobirama swatted his hand away. 

“Me too, brother, me too. But if you think about it, it’s a wonder it lasted so long.”

“That’s what Madara told me as well.”

“Hmm. Are you planning to send that group right into the Kumogakure forces, or are you just playing around?”

“Sorry,” Hashirama smiled at him ruefully and let the buttons go. He never quite outgrown being a brat, not even at fifty-five. “I was lost in my thoughts.”

“Let’s focus on the tactics here, brother. Do you have any questions so far?”

“Yes. Which buttons are Madara and me?”

“These two,” he picked up two, so far unused widgets and placed them at the centre of Konoha. Hashirama blinked at him in surprise.

“Why?” he asked softly. “Surely you will need us on the battlefield.”

Because you are growing old and soft, Tobirama didn’t say. Because I can’t bear the thought of losing you and I know you couldn’t cope with losing Madara. 

“We are about to draw most of our battle force to the borders. There’s a considerable risk that our enemies will try to use that to our advantage,” Tobirama explained. It was the truth, even if it wasn’t his real reason. “The three of us will take turns to patrol the midlands and command the forces from the village. Why are you smiling now?”

“It’s nice to know that you trust Madara enough to have him lead the village in our absence.” Tobirama snorted. Trust and Madara in the same sentence were just ridiculous. Still…

“I know he won’t betray us,” he admitted. “And to be honest, he has more strategic sense than you do, by far.”

“May I remind you,” Hashirama crossed his arm over his chest, but he was grinning, “that I won countless battles for our clan and then formed this village?” Tobirama waved a dismissive hand.

“You’ve done the first with pure power and the second with pure idealism. I could never detect any kind of strategy in your moves whatsoever.”

***

Hashirama was dirty and exhausted when he returned home. His wounds no longer throbbed - he healed them long ago, but he was covered with his own and his enemies’ blood. His chakra level was dangerously low, but the worst was the ache in his lower back that told him he overtaxed his body. He kept on his smile, told everyone on his team that they have done an excellent job and made sure he wasn’t limping as he went home. 

Madara took one long look at him and helped him out of his armour without any comment. He came to sit next to the bath later, when Hashirama was soaking. He looked grim.

“The children?” Hashirama asked.

“All out, fighting. We thought them well, they will be fine,” Hashirama could tell he was nowhere as calm as his words suggested, but he just nodded. “Tsunade and his team left for the eastern border as well,” he couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice this time. “Nawaki wanted to join them too. I forbid, so he’s sulking.”

“He’s twelve,” Hashirama said with desperation. “Why the hell does he think he can join a war?”

“Because he’s a reckless idiot. I don’t know who he reminds me of,” Madara gave him a pointed look. 

“Don’t know what you mean,” Hashirama said with a straight face. He sat up, probably too fast, and couldn’t repress a wince that Madara, of course, noticed.

“Your back again?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” he admitted. “It makes no sense why I can’t figure out how to heal it for good.”

“Nawaki is too young to fight and we are probably too old. You can’t cure age with a jutsu, Hashirama.”

He looked at his lover in his sensible, dark yukata. The two of them were growing old, that was true, but it was a long way still, in Hashirama’s opinion, when they’d need to concern themselves with getting _too_ old. Madara’s hair was mostly black still, with a few silver threads. He never seemed to get around to dye it as he said he would.

Hashirama with his backache and Madara with his bad eyesight. They were quite a pair. Hashirama desperately hoped they would have the chance to grow older still, together. He wished all their children and grandchildren to be safe. He wished the whole village to live in peace.

“I was hoping it won’t come to this again, in our lifetime.”

“We had decades of peace,” Madara told him quietly. “Konohagakure will settle this as well. We will emerge victorious and secure peace again.”

“But…”

“My father died when he was forty-two. I killed my first man when I wasn’t even seven. Look at how far we have come. We can’t complain.”

Hashirama found he could smile honestly at him.

“Thank you, Madara. I’m so glad you are here with me, my love. I…”

“Now, don’t get too sappy, old man. Get out of that bath and go, talk some sense into your grandson. I swear I’m going to strangle him if he screams at me again about how he’s to become Hokage and what being a man means. A man! What does a child know about being a man?”

“I’ll talk to him,” Hashirama chuckled. He quite enjoyed the fiery spirit of Nawaki. “And don’t call me old man. With the help of little Tsunade, I’ve been experimenting with this new technique that will allow us to take the forms of our younger selves.”

“You can appear young, but that won’t change your actual age, you know that, don’t you?”

“I know, I know,” Hashirama chuckled, “But it seems like fun. We will finish creating it when this war is over, so it better be soon.” He let all his longing of peace pour into those words. Madara heard it, judging by the soft look in his eyes. “When are you going out?” he asked his partner, hoping they would have a bit of time together.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Then we have tonight!” Hashirama exclaimed cheerfully. “We must make the best of it.”

“Hashirama,” Madara pinned him with a _look._ “You could hardly walk when you came home.”

Madara was right, not that it kept Hashirama back from _anything._ They were very careful to say casual goodbye to each other, well aware there was no guarantee it wasn’t their last.

Hashirama fell back to the role of the leader and spent his free time with Nawaki, his youngest nephew and Mito. His sister-in-law was just as worried as he was - her husband and her two oldest children were out on the battlefields as well, after all. 

He was with her, watching her teach sealing techniques to the children and in fact learning a few things himself, when there was an urgent knock on the door. He exchanged a look with Mito and knew she was taken by the same foreboding feeling that he was. 

Half of Tobirama's regular team stood outside - Young Hiruzen, his friend slash rival Danzo and Kagami. 

“Hokage-sama,” Saru said, forgetting Hashirama hadn’t been the Hokage in the last five years in his frenzied worry, “It’s Tobirama-sensei. He’s…”

“Take me to him,” Hashirama ordered. “Mito, bandages.” She handled him a first aid kit in an instant. His weapons and armour were secondary, he decided. Based on Hiruzen’s tone, he had no time to waste. “How far?” he asked, as they already sped through the village.

“Almost three hours from here, Hashirama-san,” Kagami answered. This was horrible news. Whatever happened to his little brother, he’d have to wait six hours before Hashirama reached him. 

“Brief me what happened till then,” he commanded, closing off his emotions as much as he could. He had to believe he would somehow, miraculously be on time.

***

There were too many of them. There were too many of them and among them were the Gold and Silver Brothers. Tobirama stood no chance, but he knew that when he sent the youngsters away. While he certainly had no wish to die, he knew his duty as the Hokage.

Even more so, he was a man past fifty - if his life was to be sacrificed to save all those young flames holding the future, he could be at peace. He regretted not seeing his wife’s and sons’ faces one last time, but such was the life of a shinobi.

He didn’t give his life easy. Kumogakure was known for its competent warriors, but Tobirama was the brother of Senju Hashirama - he didn’t become the Second Hokage for nothing. When he finally fell to the ground he could be satisfied with his last fight on this earth. He tried to get up, but his body didn’t obey his mind’s command. 

A pair of feet appeared in his line of vision. Ginkaku’s or Kinkaku’s - he seriously wounded one of them, but he just couldn’t recall which, the moments of his fight blurry in his mind. He wondered if Hashirama would pick up being the Hokage again. Saru would make an excellent Third, if he didn’t. 

Ginkaku - or Kinkaku - took an awful lot of time with his finishing blow. Tobirama was slow to realise he couldn’t see that pair of feet anymore. He concentrated on his surroundings - which he found very difficult to do - and found that he could hear the noises of a battle going on.

Did his team come back? The little fools, they were in grave danger. He tried to get up, but all he managed was a pathetic wiggle that rolled him from his side to his back. 

“What are you doing, you bloody idiot?” came the sound of a deep, unpleasant, familiar voice. “Stay still.” Tobirama frowned, more of his awareness of the world around him returning to him.

“Madara…?”

“No, the Sage of Six Paths. Who do you think I am?”

“Why are you here?”  
  


“I was cleaning up after your fight when you decided you’ll hasten your death by moving around. They got away, though I might have killed one of them.”

He appeared in Tobirama’s line of vision. He crouched down next to him to examine his injuries. His expression was grim.

“Based on your sour expression, I might live,” Tobirama said weakly. Madara snorted.

“Tell me about your injuries. That gash on your head looks ugly and it’s better if I don’t move you around unnecessarily. Will you bleed to death if I don’t bandage something on your body?”

Tobirama thought it over. His head was fuzzy and made recalling the details of recent events difficult. 

“The one on my thigh,” he said at last. “All the others can wait.”

He saw Madara pull off his gloves, then take out bandages from his bags and a thin bottle. He shook two pills out of it and brought them to Tobirama’s lips.

“Blood replenishers,” he explained when Tobirama, understandably, was reluctant to open his mouth. “Chew on them and brief me on what happened.”

Madara set to work first on his leg wound then moving up to his head but didn’t let Tobirama rest. He interrogated him for every little detail, all attacks and counterattacks. It showed how Tobirama wasn’t in his usual state of mind that he obeyed, doing his best to recall all events. 

“Right,” Madara said, sitting down next to him when he finished. “If you sent your minions away, hopefully they have the sense to fetch your brother. It will be quite a few hours before he arrives though, so till then you have to enjoy my company.” 

Tobirama closed his eyes with a sigh - all he wanted was to rest - just to be poked sharply between the ribs.

“Don’t you dare to ignore me, you Senju dog,” Madara loomed above him. If Tobirama didn’t know better, he would have said he looked worried. “I wanted to talk to you about how your son is spending way too much time with mine, and we won’t get a better opportunity to… chat.”

“Butsuma?” Tobirama asked in confusion. “Takumi is his sensei, of course he’s spending time with him.”

“With Noboru,” Madara clarified. “He goes wide eyed every time he’s around and with the way he resembles you so much, it’s quite disturbing.”

“Surely you are not implying…”

“Age has really got to you, Senju. You used to be more perceptive than this.”

Instead of a repost, Tobirama fell silent. There was something odd about the way Madara kept talking to him. The two of them, they just didn’t sit down to talk, not without Hashirama being at present. 

“Why don’t we discuss this later,” he said mildly. “I want to rest now.”

The look in Madara’s eyes was as hard as steel. He really must have imagined that worried look before.

“You better keep talking, Senju. That wound on your head is serious - if you fall asleep, you won’t be waking up again.”

That’s how they ended up, for the first time ever, talking about everything and nothing. It was a surreal experience - Madara wasn’t one for carefree chatting and neither was Tobirama. Given their shared history of hatred and distrust it was a wonder they could keep it up. Yet, Tobirama found himself talking about Hiruzen as how he could follow him as the next Hokage.

“My only concern is Danzo,” he said. He couldn’t really move, nor was he supposed to, so he was just lying on his back on the cold earth, staring up at the darkening sky. His peripheral vision was blurry, so he only saw Madara when he moved in to check the dilation of his pupils, gave him water or pushed more pills into his mouth. His whole body was numb - when Madara lifted his arm to check his pulse, he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t say so. He didn’t need pity from Uchiha Madara. So, he kept on talking, even if words were not so easy to form as they were supposed to be. Even if he was saying things he would have never said to Madara under normal circumstances. “Danzo is his inspiring rival but he’s also a bad influence.”

“I was wondering if they are fucking.”

Tobirama snorted so violently with a repressed laugh that sharp pain twisted into his skull.

“Saru has a girlfriend he’s planning to marry. But… I still can’t say for sure they are not.” He was surprised to hear Madara’s deep chuckle. 

“That Danzo boy… he’s a bit too weak and a bit of a coward, but he craves power, doesn’t he?” Tobirama hmm-ed his agreement to this assessment. “The type that’s willing to do a lot to get into the right position. A wonder he never offered his services to you.”

“I like women, thank you very much,” Tobirama protested. He didn’t add that had he shown any signs of interest, he was sure Danzo would have offered immediately. Madara’s view on people was uncannily accurate - and similar to his. 

“I thought you were like that, too.”

“Thought?”

“I’m not a complete idiot, Madara. I realised by now that you love my brother.”

“And here I was, thinking I managed to keep it a secret,” the Uchiha muttered. 

“You stayed like this with him once too. When he was wounded in the forest,” it wasn’t something Tobirama would ever forget.

“That was quite different,” Madara sighed. “I wouldn’t mind if you died - but I know Hashirama would be sad, and he’s unbearable when he’s depressed.”

They fell quiet for a while, Madara lost in his memories maybe, Tobirama struggling to streamline the broken kaleidoscope of his thoughts into coherent sentences. It was unlikely he was going to live, he thought, so he might as well get rid of a burden he kept carrying.

“Madara?”

“Hmm?”

“We were at war and I won’t apologise for killing an enemy who was out to murder me.”

“What are you talking about, Senju?”

“I can’t say I’m sorry for killing your brother, but I’m… I’m sorry for not believing in Hashirama’s peace. If I did, maybe we could have avoided… so many deaths.”

“You shouldn’t bring up Izuna when I’m doing my best to keep you alive,” Madara’s tone was surprisingly mild. “It’s counterproductive for your continued existence.”

“I don’t really think you’d kill me,” Tobirama said, well aware that he was gambling with his own life. Must have been Hashirama’s influence on him.

“I surely lost my touch then,” Madara took his pulse again. Tobirama knew without asking that his heartbeat was too fast and too irregular. “I won’t ever forgive you for killing Izuna, but we have come to some kind of truce now, you and I, I think. And the same goes for me. Hashirama’s talk of peace didn’t seem anything but a wishful pipedream back then. Who would have thought he was right?”

He stood up suddenly. Tobirama couldn’t see, but he was sure he was drawing his weapons. He could feel when his stance suddenly relaxed. Which could mean only one thing.

“Tobirama!” Hashirama burst through the woods, coming to a skipping halt next to them. He dropped to his knees, his healing powers flowing into the younger man already, while Madara brought him up to date with all his injuries.

Tobirama closed his eyes. It seemed he was getting through this day alive. Saved by Uchiha Madara, of all people. Wonders never ceased, at least not around his brother.

He was looking forward to many more years of this wonder.

**FIN**

  
  



End file.
